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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808888">Who Will Watch?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness'>1f_this_be_madness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Also post Keep Your Enemies Closer, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Eating dinner in front of a fire heck yeah, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Gibbs is great, Gibbs' Rules, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jack Needs a Hug, Jack has some issues, Loneliness, Memories, No current violence but Jack has been through a lot, POV Third Person Limited, Platonic Kissing, Post Keep Your Friends Close NCIS, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Protective Jethro Gibbs, Self-Hatred, Team as Family, The author got nostalgic for a minute, Watching old westerns ah my childhood, Worried Jethro Gibbs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:53:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Please, I'm sorry. Stay - you're the only friend I have who'll watch reality TV with me." - Jacqueline Sloane</i>
</p><p>  <i>[...] "Just as well. I wouldn't know how to trust you now either." - Tobias Fornell</i></p><p>Jack Sloane had a friend she talked to. She's had multiple friends she could laugh with, sometimes; but not deeply. Not really, not since the war.</p><p>Gibbs doesn't talk. Fornell talks too much, Bishop is sweet and she tries; Nick is just as broken, he looks at her and knows. Abby would gush and offer sympathy and hugs, whilst McGee would certainly listen, and Jimmy is everyone's favorite confidant. </p><p>She just doesn't know who to turn to.</p><p>(Or what happens when a cheesy chuckle line turns into an angsty idea)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Sloane &amp; Jessica Schaeffer, Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane &amp; Leon Vance, Jethro Gibbs &amp; Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane, Jethro Gibbs &amp; Timothy McGee, Jimmy Palmer &amp; Nick Torres, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tobias Fornell &amp; Jethro Gibbs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack doesn't do friendship. 

</p><p>Not in the usual way, the traditional sense, at least. Not going out for drinks with girlfriends, not a big texter or caller, not getting into the deep or the casual with anyone except her colleagues at work.</p><p>Like Leon. She knows Leon. He saved her, in more ways than one. But he's so busy in his own life, yet even though he is so busy he would be glad for her to come to him with anything. That's always what he says, with words and nods and even looks. </p><p>He's gone through so much loss. And he has his children to think of. He can't go out in the evening on a whim, and she wouldn't want him to. Not even now that Kayla is old enough to watch out for herself and her brother. </p><p>She can't keep going for drinks with Ellie and Torres, or even the times that McGee joins them. Sometimes Delilah comes along as well, and Jack has to hold onto her smile for all that she is worth. And then to be disgusted with herself, because how could she? How dare she be so jealous of their happiness?</p><p>Even Gibbs, in his silence, comes out after work sometimes. Or invites them over for cards. He catches Fornell's glances and rolls his eyes at his most ridiculous puns. Lifts his eyes and chuckles, mouth closed. </p><p>Always, mouth closed.</p><p>***</p><p>"Jack."</p><p>"Yeah?" She looks up, face ready to lift into a smile. Her back twinges as she twists her neck and runs one hand over the back of it. Leon Vance's dark gaze holds hers. "Heading home, Leon? Is it that time already?"</p><p>"It's seven-thirty, Jack." He looks tired but his moustache twitches upward and his eyes soften as he nods at her. "You should go home. My daughter said if I stayed past eight again she'd call Gibbs and get him to drag me to the house if he has to."</p><p>She laughs, clapping her hands together whilst shaking back her hair. "Would Gibbs answer the phone if Kayla called him?" Gibbs' antipathy towards technology is well-known.</p><p>"With my luck, on the first ring," Vance chuckles.</p><p>***</p><p>They exchange a few more words, a good night, a <i>'go home, Jack, paperwork can wait until tomorrow. Mine always does,'</i> with a laugh that she shares, shaking her head fondly after the director. </p><p>But as soon as he goes out her door, she sighs and pushes hands through her hair. They'd gotten Hicks. Fornell got him. No one else got hurt after Jessica. But Jack had been the one to push her. The one who put a bug in her ear, and that bug begot an explosion that got her killed.</p><p>Jack knows where she has to go.</p><p>***</p><p>Sinking her teeth into her lower lip and breathing unevenly, she enters the elevator and hits the button to head down to Autopsy. Jimmy likely won't be there; he leaves earlier now to get home to Victoria and Breena. The way his face lights up upon every mention of either of them - how widely he smiles with that special sparkle in his eyes - an ugly twisting inside her abdomen causes Jack to close one hand around the opposite arm, digging nails into skin. Unintentional, but. </p><p>She knows why she hopes the doctor won't be down in Autopsy. Or at least one reason, one that is petty and selfish and makes her feel greasy and cowardly and <i>low -</i></p><p>And then as she smacks the button and the elevator jerks down a single floor, making her nearly throw her head back with a howl of frustration, "Door!" Here he comes, jogging, whipping a hand to beckon "Bishop, Torres, c'mon!" And straightforward blue eyes stare at her as Gibbs steps to the back of the elevator alongside with an "Evening, Jack." 

</p><p>His two agents hustle in behind him, Nick saying something about his exercising capabilities creating those <i>'spectacular moves I just used to get in the door, baby'</i> which makes Bishop scoff and roll her eyes with an <i>'oh, please'</i>.</p><p>"Hi Gibbs," Jack is smiling, but has to look away from him because she needs to hide what she is feeling, and his chin lowers as his eyes search her face. He is so good at that, reading without speaking. There is a reason she opened up to him more than she has to anyone. </p><p>But she doesn't want to think about that; not now, after Jessica's death, with her men's screams of agony echoing in her head the way they do. They haven't stopped.</p><p>Not ever.

</p><p>***

</p><p>She hears Ellie chattering with Nick, sees the way her eyes look as they rest on him, sees the way Nick's face softens when he looks at her. She wonders if these two will ever know, ever stop the dance they are doing around one another, ever take the steps past one of Gibbs' rules. The all-mighty rules. Jack wonders if there is one, maybe like Rule Ten, <b>never get personally involved in a case</b> but to the effect of <b>never get close to anyone because you'll hurt them, or kill them, or make what you think, hope is the best out of a bunch of shitty choices and then you'll cut your only possible chance to have a family out of your life...</b></p><p>Jack's head is spinning. Somehow she still stands and nods a goodbye to Ellie and Nick, maybe even manages their names. She stands, she thinks, normally; but can see Gibbs watching out of the corner of her eye, and when the elevator stops at the lobby he doesn't get off. Does not go to the parking deck either, and when she snaps "What are you waiting for, Gibbs?" </p><p>As the car shudders to a stop level with Autopsy and the split hallway up to Abby's lab, he turns perfectly on his heel, ever the Marine, to face her. "You," he says, those piercing eyes of his the color of glacial ice yet somehow warm. He speaks as if there isn't a single doubt about what he is doing, as if there is nothing she can say to dissuade. He jerks his chin at the Autopsy door. "After you finish in there with Jessica, I'll walk out with ya." The briefest of pauses "At my place I've got steak and a TV."</p><p>It is not a question, nor is it phrased like a request, but nevertheless Jack can tell that Gibbs is inviting her over. He rocks onto the heels of his dark shoes, coat flaring out as he steps from the opened doors and stands stolidly, at attention. As if in vigil, waiting for her here. Knowing what she was coming down for, and taking it upon himself to stay with her so that she isn't alone.</p><p>She does not know what to say to him, but squeezes his arm in passing as both acquiescence and thanks. She catches sight of a small smile on his lips as he nods, hand pressing on top of hers for an instant as he leans in and kisses the side of her head. </p><p>With that, as with so much else, she knows he is watching out for her. </p><p>She's a part of his family, and he is a true friend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And what'll probably be on Gibbs' TV is something like <i>Gunsmoke</i> or the ultimate John Wayne marathon</p><p>Greetings, dear readers!</p><p>I caught an NCIS rerun tonight and was caught by an idea about Jack. I'm not the biggest fan of her character in the show, yet somehow inspiration struck, and here we are. I may add to this piece at some point - please feel free to let me know what you think.</p><p>Comments appreciated &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the quiet mostly-dark atmosphere of autopsy, chill air crawls with the sickly sweetness of death. The single nighttime light illumines a few feet of body drawers as Jack walks to the one in which Palmer has placed Jessica. Sight of his messy handwriting, almost flyaway, with miniscule addendums like <i>'Jack's friend'</i> makes her heave out a breath as she opens the door, raising her hand to clutch at her mouth and stop the sob that threatens to wrench itself out of her throat.</p><p>No talking. No crying. It's no use. She can't do this, any of it. <i>"It's all right, it's all good, Sarge."</i> But it's not, it wasn't then and it cannot be now; those sweaty faces, terrified eyes - like Jessica's - but that firm deadened resolve of soldiers... that, Jessica didn't have. She had been frightened by Hicks, she was so scared - <i>"Don't stop digging,"</i> she said, because of what Jack told her, and all it had done, her digging, was get her killed -</p><p>"Jack."</p><p>She doesn't register the sliding door, at least not consciously. She is bent forward, hands pressed shaking together, lips open in a silent howl as she can't cry, she can't she can't - </p><p>But beside her, arm wrapping around, fingers parted to grip her shoulder bracingly, the one finger - his pinkie - bent outward at the knuckle. She'd privately wondered if he'd broken his hand when he was young. His hands are so strong, had he played sports growing up? Any sport other than the one they took away broomstick guns for to put a real one in hand? She knew his father was a flier in World War Two, but that was about all. He enlisted as a marine, works now for the Navy...has made this his career. Why this, why here? Almost thirty years... Why her mind is pinwheeling over these questions, of the enigma that is the man beside her, who stands stolidly and now allows her to turn into his chest, whose hand comes up to hold her neck and the side of her face firmly, but gentle, somehow, still, Jack doesn't know.</p><p>Yet he has done such things for so many before - for those who've told her and from what she has heard, Leroy Jethro Gibbs is a confidant for those who understand his silences. Or allow for them. He sees things, feelings, people so clearly and succinctly. </p><p>Gibbs holds her with fingers spread now to catch the side of her face - cupping, brushing across, being here. 

</p><p>"It's my fault." She realizes she's spoken aloud, a burst of spittle rising along with a sob in her throat. Gibbs just holds her tight, one hand cupping her face, other arm wrapped around her back and hand gripping her shoulder. He doesn't say anything, but she can tell ... somehow she can tell he understands her feelings. He's not going to tell her that it isn't her fault.</p><p>"I know it feels that way." His voice is rough as he presses his lips together afterwards and withdraws his face to cup hers now in both hands.</p><p>And he does. "D - y -" Pressing her lips together to stop the sobs, eyes shining with tears as she shakes her head back and forth, whisps of hair brushing her shoulders as well as his wrists. And Jack, always the one to offer ideas and support to everyone else, asks - nearly begs - "Gibbs, what - what am I supposed to do?"</p><p>He licks his lips, shakes his head, pulls her back into him and rocks her back and forth in another hug, one hand rising to stroke her hair and hold the back of her head. "Keep living," he whispers into her temple, lips pressing to her skin. "Best you can." Looking down at Jessica, he adds "...for her, for all of them. If you can't do it for yourself."</p><p>Jack expels the slightest of whimpers as she closes her eyes and drops her head. It's not a nod, but she is listening nonetheless.</p><p>Reaching out then, Gibbs carefully pushes the drawer closed, tenderly, almost. One arm still around Jack as she makes a sound and wipes her eyes with her fingers. Jerking his chin, Gibbs adds gently "C'mon Jack. Let's get you something to eat. Or drink," he almost smiles, just barely, looking at her with eyes soft.</p><p>She does nod then, sniffling and doing her best to smile back. "Okay, Gibbs."</p><p>***</p><p>Should expect it, probably, when he keeps an arm around her and takes her to his truck rather than letting her drive. "You can leave your car for a night," he tells her. "I'll get you home."</p><p>Jack sighs but doesn't argue with him. "Thanks," she says almost gruff. He ducks his head with another smile.

</p><p>They drive and he just opens his front door for her as he'd done the first night he'd let her into his house and effectively into his life. Tells her to hang up her coat on the rack or over a chair if she wants, and goes to grab two steaks. Pokes at the fire to start it, marinating them with some salt and pepper as casually as if she's always been here, or like he'd planned this. Which, knowing Gibbs, he probably had a feeling in his infamous gut that she'd need some protein and bourbon. 

</p><p>"You ever cook anything else, like potatoes?" Jack asks, and he looks at her. She sighs. "Of course not. Well, do you HAVE some?" He points to a door beneath a kitchen drawer and she nods, going over and ducking to open the cabinet Gibbs indicated, Jack pulls out a bag of potatoes and opens it. 

</p><p>A couple have sprouted, which she sighs at. Honestly. "You mind?" Gibbs shakes his head with a look she can't quite figure, but his eyes are sparkling a little. "Good." It's good - nice - that he's allowing her to do this, takes her mind off... Swallowing, shaking her head, she pulls her hair back and grabs up several spuds, taking them to the sink and rinsing them off. 

</p><p>Goes to her boot for her bowie - <b>never go anywhere without a knife</b> - and flicks it open, cutting the potatoes into cubes before.gathering them to toss in the steak pan. 

</p><p>It's sizzling as he's gotten the fire going and the steak on, having walked into the front room and crouched by the fireplace. TV is on, some old black-and-white Western. "<i>Gunsmoke</i> what d'ya know," Jack chuckles, a real one, and Gibbs shoots her a nod. "Here." Kneeling beside him, potatoes cupped in her palms, with a cock of the head she offers "Gotta have some starch, come on."

</p><p>Gibbs shakes his head with a chuckle. "Can't ruin a good steak," he says.</p><p>"No, but you can always improve," her teeth flash at him. She nudges him in the side "Come onnn," she needles. With a slow blink he holds out the heavy pan to her at last, and she nods. "It's going to be good, I promise," shaking her hair and dropping to sit on the carpet beside him. "It's good to try new things!" And then, losing the teasing tone, Jack thinks <i>like this. I can do this.</i> "... Thank you, Gibbs," speaking softly, she means for so much. For - well. She works her jaw and lips and sniffs again, facing forward.</p><p>But he knows. Of course he knows. Nods, and the next thing he says to her is "Steaks and taters are done," with the littlest huff of breath, standing up and offering his hand.</p><p>Just like he always has.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For kat8384 who asked for more after last chapter, here you go! Jack really grew on me as a character.</p><p>Comments appreciated, and semper fi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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